Yours truly, Elanah

Lila

The air in the classroom was thick enough to cut with a protractor. Midterms loomed like a hydra, each head representing a different subject ready to devour our already dwindling sanity. Sir Alfred's Political Science class was the most vicious head of them all. His oral exams were legendary, capable of reducing even the most confident students to stammering messes reciting half-remembered facts about obscure political theorists.

Lynne, two rows behind me, had her eyes squeezed shut so tight I was surprised she wasn't seeing stars. She was probably trying to mentally download the entire Constitution directly into her brain. Jemma, usually bubbly and bright, was huddled in her usual corner, surrounded by textbooks and radiating an aura of quiet resignation. It was the "I've accepted my fate" look, a common sight in the days leading up to Sir Alfred's exams.

Beside me, Sandra Lee was a whirlwind of frantic energy, flipping through her meticulously color-coded notes. Highlighters were her weapon of choice, and her textbook looked like a rainbow had exploded on it. Renzo was a walking zombie. His face, usually animated and expressive, had been replaced by a permanent frown of concentration. He'd been muttering obscure political terms in his sleep for the past week.

And then there was Aliyah. God bless her, she’d practically moved into the classroom with her entire arsenal of notes, textbooks, and flashcards. She looked like she was preparing for a presidential debate, not a high school midterm.

The collective stress of the room was making my stomach churn. I needed a break. Urgently. "Bathroom emergency," I mumbled to Sandra, grabbing my bag. She barely registered my presence, too engrossed in the nuances of parliamentary procedure.

The hallway was blessedly quiet, a momentary escape from the academic pressure cooker. As I walked towards the restrooms, I saw her. Lila. She was walking slowly, head down, as if the weight of the world was resting on her slender shoulders. We weren't exactly friends. Acquaintances, maybe? We'd exchanged a few polite smiles in the hallways, but I couldn't recall a single actual conversation.

I walked past her normally, trying not to stare. But Lila turned, her eyes widening slightly when she saw me. And then, she did something completely unexpected. She gripped my hands.

My heart did a weird little flutter-kick. I knew she'd been wanting to talk to me. Still, it surprises me.

“Anya,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, just like I remembered. Soft, hesitant, almost ethereal.

Her eyes were serious, almost pleading. She paused, drawing out the suspense like a master storyteller. I swear I could hear the dramatic music swelling in the background.

Then, she dropped the bomb: "I'm five months pregnant."

My brain short-circuited. What. The. Actual. Heck.

“What?” I managed to stammer out, trying to process the information. Lila? Pregnant? The girl who looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly? It was like finding out Mother Theresa had a secret life as a professional wrestler.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated, her voice still soft, but with a newfound firmness.

My mind raced through all the possibilities. This was Lila. Something awful must have happened. “Was it… was it r**e?” I asked, my voice tight with concern. I wanted to wrap her in a protective bubble and shield her from the world.

“No, no, it wasn’t,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “This baby is my boyfriend’s.”

Boyfriend? Lila had a boyfriend? This was news to me. I was suddenly feeling very out of the loop.

“Ohhh,” I said, eloquently. My mind was still trying to reconcile the image of Lila with the concept of… well, all that.

She explained that her boyfriend was an engineering student at the university. A university student. Lila was barely eighteen! She was still figuring out the mysteries of calculus, and now she was facing this.

“Does anyone know?” I asked, my voice hushed.

She nodded. “Yes. Ms. Florence Elanah does.” Ms. Elanah is our class adviser, practically a saint. She had a knack for knowing everything that was going on in our lives, even before we did.

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway. It was Ms. Elanah, looking slightly harried. “Lila, dear, I was wondering where you’d gotten to…” She stopped abruptly when she saw me, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Lila looked at me, then at Ms. Elanah, a silent plea in her eyes.

Ms. Elanah seemed to understand immediately. She took a deep breath. “Well, Anya, now you’re in on the secret too.” She turned to Lila, her voice softening. “Are you alright, dear?”

Lila nodded

Ms. Elanah then turned to me, her expression serious. She explained the situation, reiterating Lila's request for confidentiality. “We need to keep this quiet until Lila is ready to tell everyone,” she said. “Can you do that, Anya?”

I nodded vehemently. Of course I could. But keeping a secret like this in the gossip-fueled atmosphere of high school? That was going to be harder than acing Sir Alfred's oral exam.

I went home that afternoon with Lila's secret burning a hole in my brain. The midterm exam I had just taken felt like a distant memory, insignificant in the face of this new revelation.

I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Now I knew why Ms. Elanah always seemed so worried about Lila. It all made sense. But how was Lila coping? How was she going to manage school, a baby, and everything else that came with being a teenager?

The next day at school was t*****e. I couldn't look at Lila without feeling a pang of sympathy and a wave of admiration. She was carrying a huge secret, and she was doing it with grace and dignity.

Keeping the secret was proving to be a herculean task. Every conversation felt like walking through a minefield. I had to carefully monitor my words, avoiding any mention of babies, pregnancies, or even the word "stomach." It was exhausting.

Renzo, oblivious to the drama unfolding around him, was still consumed by PolSci. Sandra Lee was still highlighting everything in sight, her textbook now resembling a Jackson Pollock painting. And Aliyah was practically living in the library, fueled by caffeine and sheer determination.

The days leading up to the midterm exam were a blur of studying, secret-keeping, and absurd mental scenarios. I felt like I was living a double life: on the one hand, I was a stressed-out high school student trying to survive PolSci; on the other hand, I was a secret-keeper, entrusted with a life-changing piece of information.

Finally, the oral exam arrived.

My exam went… well. I managed to aced it.

After the exam, I found Lila in the hallway. "How did it go?" I asked.

"It was… difficult," she said, her voice hesitant. "But I think I did okay."

I squeezed her hand. "You did great," I said, even though I had no idea how she'd actually done. "You're amazing, Lila."

She smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that lit up her face. "Thanks, Anya," she said. "That means a lot."

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. As we parted ways, I knew that things were going to be different from now on. High school life had just gotten a whole lot more… complicated.